


Take Good Care Of My Baby

by Lazylupe



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), game of thrones
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-19 23:56:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18980977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lazylupe/pseuds/Lazylupe
Summary: Requested; Sandor angst featuring Gregor. Joffrey has Sandors love interest marry Gregor. How will this end in the bitter rivalry of brothers





	Take Good Care Of My Baby

Court had just begun, the throne room was full of whispering women and men. The Kings Guards all stood around the iron throne, as King Joffrey sat mocking Lady Sansa. Cersei sat at his side, a small tight-lipped smile on her face as she watched the events unfold. She too was as cruel as her son, and no one had the brass to stand up to any of them. It was unlikely they'd survive even if they did.  
The young King cruelly jibed about her fathers' death, about her mother and brother being Traitors in the North. She whimpered and sobbed as his words stung deep. Agreeing with as much fervour as she could muster. Yet, nothing quenched his thirst and he carried on. "Ah, my Lady, I must say at least you have your youthful looks, but the sobbing of women I've never been able to stomach, go stand with the rest until I'm done here." Sansa retreated back to her handmaidens as they bustled around her to dry her eyes. You caught Sandor looking at you, his hands clutched to one another in front of him, you smiled, hoping he'd see it and it would cheer him up.  
"It has just been brought to my attention that a certain Lady of the court has been consorting with someone from the Kings Guard without my permission," your heart began to beat uncontrollably, was he speaking of you, could he know? You doubted it, you both had been so discreet, unsure of how it was found out, had someone seen you both? "Y/N Baratheon, please stand forward," you were pushed to the front of the room, standing in front of the Kings cold gaze, "I've had it on good authority that you've been fucking a guard, do you deny it?" You hung your head, eyes tearing up, "No, your Grace, I don't deny it."  
"Did you think I'd not find out? Think you were better than me to sneak around behind my back? Am I an ungracious King?"   
"No, your Grace you are very gracious, and I don't think you're stupid, it all just happened so fast, I'm deeply sorry." Tears rolled down your cheeks, the bitter sting of embarrassment cracking your throat.   
"Considering your virtue has been torn from you, the fact that you've fucked him already, spoiled yourself for any marriage that I could have helped with, since you are a cousin to my late father it seems that I now have no other choice but to give you away to someone who will whip you into shape. Teach you what happens to a common whore." Joffrey spat maliciously as Cersei grinned down at you.  
"I'm sorry your Grace, truly I am, but please, don't do this." You sank to your knees. Sandor had inched closer behind Joffrey, worry etched on his face, hands clasping the hilt of his sword.  
"Ser Gregor, your blushing bride awaits you, you are to be married on the morrow, and what you do with her is up to you," a sob shook your body, of all the men he could give you to and he picked the cruellest, of all the brothers in Westeros and he picked the wrong one.   
"Please, your Grace, I beg you, not him, not that one!"  
"Y/N, you think after being broken in by the Hound I'd let you fuck off and marry him like his own personal bitch? Ser Meryn Trant, take her back to her room but leave the face untouched, it is her wedding day tomorrow after all." Trant took his steps towards you and you scooted backwards, hands in the air ready to push him away, "Please, don't touch me, get away, I'll go myself," Trant had reached you now, your pleading had no affect and his hands had found your arm, he dragged you to your feet with little effort his grip was tight and your arm stung.   
You fought him the length of the hall until his hand snapped back at punched you in the stomach, "Look here you little bitch, if you're ripe enough for the Hound then you're ripe enough for the Mountain, now get a fucking move on." You had doubled over in pain, trying to catch your breath. You turned to face back at the King, who had no attention to you now but was busy insulting someone else, Sandors eyes never left yours, his knuckles now a deep purple from his tight grip on the hilt of his sword. That was the last you saw of him, he didn't visit you that night, you didn't know if he was admitting defeat or if you hadn't meant enough to him for him to be bothered, either way, you sat all night by the fire, sobbing.   
Sandor had watched you leave, saw the pain in your eyes as you looked back, watched as Trant fisted you in the stomach and all he could do was stand next to the little Bastard who was the cause of all of this. The day went slower than normal, all he wanted was to get off of duty and head to Y/N, find her and take her away. If she indeed does get forced to marry Gregor then her fate is sealed, his previous wives never stood a chance, all of them had died within the first year of marriage.   
She was fragile, kind. beautiful and funny all of the things that he didn't deserve let alone Gregor. He'd never be able to marry her, but he didn't want that brute getting the opportunity.  
"What is wrong little brother? Does your bitch mean that much to you?" Gregors taunt was done as the throne room emptied. The King and Queen Regent no longer occupying the chairs at the top.  
"Fuck off before I make you," Sandor snarled.  
"Oh, you couldn't make me if you tried, but I'll tell you what, when I'm fucking her perfect cunt tomorrow afternoon I'll tell her that you send your regards," Gregor stalked out of the throne room with a laugh of pure evil, it bounced off of the stone walls and echoed around Sandors skull.  
He approached the King's chambers and knocked briskly on the door. "ENTER," he still sounded shrill as if his bollocks hadn't yet dropped, Sandor thought.  
He opened the door and stood just inside of the room, "your Grace," he bent his head down in greeting.  
"Ah, Dog, if you're here to beg for that bitch then it's too late, your brother is betrothed to be married to her," The boy King was busy firing arrows from the wooden crossbow in what looked like a goat carcass.   
"Your Grace, I don't often beg, or ask anything of you, I don't even give a shit at what you do when I'm guarding ya, but I ask this, don't give her to Gregor, she won't survive the week." Joffrey stopped reloading the crossbow and turned to look at Sandor.  
"And, Dog, what would you expect me to do? Do I disappoint Gregor and the others who are now eager for this ceremony?" His smirk irritated Sandor, he knew all too well the little cunt was enjoying every moment.  
Sandor left in defeat, knowing that the young bastard wouldn't change his mind, he left to find your room but to his dismay Gregor stood outside, on guard probably, knowing that Sandor would try to get to you before the morning.   
He turned and stalked off to his own chambers, hoping that this nightmare was nothing but that and that he will awake tomorrow and it will all be over. However, if it wasn't then he needed a plan.  
The morning came faster than any others, your stomach was tied in multiple knots, bile rising in your throat as you thought of the day ahead. A small knock at your door and in walked in three handmaidens. "We came to get you dressed, my Lady."   
You nodded, understanding that it was their job but hating them none the less for it. They fussed about your person, one wrapping your hair the other dressing you in your wedding silks that had been made the day before. The third one was applying perfumed oils behind your ears, and neck.   
Your dress was yellow in colour with black embellishments, you looked down at it, the Clegane colours you thought, tears stung your eyes, you loved these colours, loved the man they belonged to but not the man that you were betrothed to.   
His brother was brutal and unkind, yet the youngest one seemed that way at first, but soon his softer side shone through. He would often turn up at your room, with two plates of food and a flagon of wine. You would spend the nights cuddled together and chatting or fucking each other senseless.   
Yellow flowers had now been woven into the braids of your long hair. You sobbed as they handed you a bunch of them to carry, "Oh, Lady Baratheon, you are beautiful," You bowed your head in acknowledgement as your chamber door opened to reveal Ser Meryn Trant.   
"I'm here to escort the bitch to her wedding," his grin was sickening, infuriatingly smug.  
The walk was short, your heart hammered against your chest, the palms of your hands were slippy with sweat. This was how you should be feeling on your wedding day but without the fear that existed behind it. Instead of walking into that room and finding Sandor Clegane standing waiting for you, you were about to find Gregor Clegane and this terrified you.  
Would Sandor be there to watch? Could he face it? Or was he done with you and now handing you over to Gregor?  
You had walked into the room, Lords and Ladies littered the sides of the room, the King in his usual spot, upon the Throne, his mother beside him and your future husband stood just in front. His thick armour glistening in the sun. Yet, thereupon the steps at the left of King Joffrey stood your love, Sandor watched as you approached, your eyes never left him, you pretended it wasn't the eldest that you were marrying but him instead. You could see the pain on his face, the heartache behind his eyes, perhaps he did care after all.  
The ceremony was short, as you and Gregor said your vows. Prayed to the old gods before the people of Kings Landing. He was handed a cloak with the Clegane house sigil embroidered upon it, this would be your wedding gown and no doubt your funeral shroud. He placed it upon your shoulders, bending down beside you and whispering, "take one last look, girl, it'll be the last time your eyes get to see that burnt face."  
A small sob escaped your mouth, heart heavy you accepted your fate, you were now Y/N Clegane and Lady to Clegane's Keep, the Place that people often talk about, where people disappear without as much of a word and the Dogs are too scared to enter.  
It looks like Dogs are too scared to enter indeed and this would be the last time you'd see his face.   
Sandor watched as Y/N approached the stairs, she was dressed in yellow and looked incredible, he couldn't stop watching her, in his house colours no less. He imagined what it would be like if she was to be walking to him, to marry him, how he'd call her his wife, deck her in the finest yellows he could buy. The thought of being the one to drape his cape over her shoulders, the yellow of his house sigil would make her his. The fact no one would ever mistreat her again because where ever she went they'd know of her as Sandor Cleganes wife, the Hounds bitch.   
His heart dropped into the pit of his stomach as his older brother stood looming over you. Gregor took your hand and practically dragged you out of the throne room. You kept pulling back, eyes wanting to see him, wanting to see him come running to save you, yet he didn't. As the doors slammed behind you also felt your life leaving you. You'd spend the night in the castle with your husband but tomorrow you would take the dreaded journey out to Cleganes keep, a place you'd call home for whatever was left of your life and then your resting place no doubt. You needed a miracle from the Gods and you needed it yesterday.


End file.
